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SOUTH SEA 
SKETCHES 



1922 

THE STRATFORD CO., Publishers 
Boston, Massachusetts 


c o 







HUnto 

v ^r ri 

co tY,^ 


Copyright, 1922 

The STRATFORD CO., Publishers V 
Boston, Mass. 



The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 


JUL 26 1922 ft 


©CI.A681243 



Preface 


B UT for the Great World War our American pub¬ 
lic would take as little interest in the South 
Sea Islands as in the troglodytes of dark continents. 
However, since Japan received a mandate over the 
former German colonies situated to the north of the 
equator, since Australia drew the Bismark archipelago 
into its sphere of influence, since Great Britain re¬ 
served the multi-million phosphate fields of Nauru 
for its exploitation, and since our own government 
decided to retain the Philippine Islands under its 
benevolent sway, the area of the Pacific has come 
into the limelight. Thus it was thought opportune to 
pen a few random sketches on the Marshall Islands 
and New Britain where the writer spent ten laborious 
years. 

May the kind reader enjoy these unpretentious 
touches, bask in the tropical sun and slumber in the 
shade of the virgin forest, smile and shudder, laugh 
and weep, believe in the nominal calm of the Pacific 
or dread future hurricanes. Recollections are sweet. 


THE AUTHOR. 



Contents 


Chapter 

I 

Preface 

A Glance at the Islands 




Page 

. 1 

II 

Native Food 




. 6 

III 

Beauty and Ugliness 




. 12 

IV 

Characteristics 




. 17 

V 

Social Strata . 




. 23 

VI 

Woman and Youth . 




. 28 

VII 

Religion . 




. 33 

VIII 

Superstition 




. 37 

IX 

Figurative Language 




. 41 

X 

Proverbs . 




. 47 

XI 

Lost at Sea 




. 52 

XII 

On Ruins 




. 58 

XIII 

Commerce 




. 62 

XIV 

New Britain 




. 68 

XV 

The Cannibal . 




. 73 

XVI 

Marriage . 




. 78 

XVII 

Warfare and Murder 




. 82 

XVIII 

Slavery 




. 88 

XIX 

Cannibalism 




. 92 

XX 

A Tragic Massacre . 




. 99 

















- 















































<S 








V 

























* 


' 




































































































,1 * 


























CHAPTER I 


A Glance at the Islands 

T HE coral islands of the Marshall group 
appear to the approaching traveler as 
oases in an ocean desert: ridiculously 
low to resist the pulsing waves and wonderfully 
bold in separating a portion of the sea from 
its wide expanse. Rarely do the slightly 
elevated tracts of chain-like islets exceed a 
quarter of a mile in width; in spots they even 
narrow down to a few yards and let the open 
seas sweep across their necks into the lagoon. 

Fortunately abreast the entire stretch of 
island the outer table reef, some four hundred 
yards wide, acts the part of a land-sheltering 
bulwark. At high tide billow after billow, roll¬ 
ing in as though bent on destruction, strikes 
the edge of the barrier, tumbles over it, and 
breaks with a mighty roar. Each wave, foam- 
crested and booming deeply, hisses out its life 
to the grating music of moving stones and 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


sand, and swishes back in undertow to make 
room for another. 

The lagoon is smooth unless high winds whip 
it into raging turmoil. Smoothness also pre¬ 
vails in the passage to and from the lagoon, 
although the swift vortical current, developed 
therein by the entering and receding flood-tide, 
endangers every seafaring craft. 

The soil of the islets is productive on the 
lagoon side only; near the ocean occasional 
tidal-waves and hurricanes have accumulated 
deep layers of coral stones. Wells and springs 
failing, men and animals depend on rain-water. 
It is collected by the natives from tree forks 
and thatched roofs into cocoanut shells and 
pails, and by the white men from galvanized 
roofs into tanks and cisterns. A wondrous 
paradise for strictest prohibition, were the 
foreign settlers not tempted by imported 
Australian wines, Bavarian beer, and French 
or Dutch liquor, all containing more than one 
half of one percent of alcohol. 

Pulverized corals and rotted leaves, which 
compose the original soil, preclude true fer¬ 
tility. Whoever wishes to raise radishes, 
[2] 


A GLANCE AT THE ISLANDS 

cucumbers, pumpkins, and beans must needs 
import black humus from other archipelagoes. 
Only various kinds of shrubs and fruit-trees 
thrive in the lean native soil. 

The cocoanut-palm spreads its tapering and 
twisted roots in every direction and vigorously 
clasps coral stones to anchor the trunk against 
storms. Its main vegetative strength is de¬ 
rived from the brackish water which percolates * 
through the porous corals and reaches the roots 
from beneath at the rising tide. Thus invigor¬ 
ated the young palm grows rapidly until its 
handful of leaves rocks proudly on the bare 
stem. From this dominant height it looks 
disdainfully on its two companions: the broad¬ 
leaved breadfruit-tree and the stilted pandanus. 
Their growth is assured by frequent, nay, 
almost nightly rains which impart to the aver¬ 
age temperature of 87 F. an extraordinary 
amount of dampness. 

Vegetarians fare best. Beefsteak and dain¬ 
ties are expensive. Every one, however, may 
feast eyes and sbul on the gratuitous beauties 
of nature, not on a land destitute of rippling 
rivulets and mountains and hills and flower- 

[ 3 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


decked vales, but on a sea illumined by the 
beacons of day and of night. 

On a bright day, indeed, the lagoon glitters 
with a vivid sheen and the green islands seem 
to rise out of its sparkling bed. Crystalline 
rays of light, flashing into the heart of the 
lagoon, fling open to the spell-bound eye the 
coral garden on the bottom and disclose a thou¬ 
sand fishes of gorgeous coloring. Still more 
magical are the ruby and amethyst effects of 
the sunbeams in the swelling and heaving surf. 
Beyond it, in the far distance, the horizon, 
unobscured by mist or haze, sharply cuts the 
boundless ocean. 

And how wondrous are the evenings! At 
six o’clock the sun sinks blood-red beneath the 
billows, throwing the clouds during the short 
twilight into baffling opalescence. Every layer 
and every edge of cloud is effulgent in varying 
tints. Finally, when the play of colors, pic¬ 
turesque and impressive, has run the gamut of 
the spectrum and darkness covers the earth, 
the wondrous picture hangs long before one’s 
mind. Then, awakening from the dream, one 
turns toward the sky. There the myriads of 

[ 4 ] 


A GLANCE AT THE ISLANDS 


stars twinkle out of the dark blue and seemingly 
infinite canopy. In solemn stillness they move 
westward, their pale light playing on gently 
dimpling waves and peacefully rustling palms, 
whilst the muffled roar of the surf enhances the 
overwhelming impression of the star-lit dome. 


[ 5 ] 


CHAPTER II 


Native Food 

P OETIC scenery, satiating perhaps to the 
white settler’s taste and imagination, 
never satisfies a native. He longs for 
cocoannt, breadfruit, pandanus, taro, arrow- 
root, and fish. His simple bill of fare leaves 
variety to the cook’s ingenious talent of com¬ 
bination. 

Palatable eatables and drinks! Most cer¬ 
tainly. The sweet liquid of a young cocoanut 
is sheer ambrosia, and its soft meat is heavenly 
food as long as it can be detached from the 
shell by one turn of the long-nailed thumb. 
Oil-dripping and tender, it surpasses the meat 
of a ripe nut grated on a dented shell or 
sharpened piece of iron and added to breadfruit, 
taro, and arrow-root. 

What could be more delicate than a warm 
breadfruit baked on hot ashes or in a leaf- 
covered fireplace! What more savory than a 
[ 6 ] 


A Lagoon Bay — Marshall Islands 











NATIVE FOOD 


1 jack-fruit’ with a dash of cocoanut milk? In 
comparison with them the potato-like taro tastes 
insipid and the cooked arrow-root meal stale, 
a mere tonic for children. 

Pandanus offers a delicious desert. One cone 
after another is broken oft and squeezed with 
considerable exertion of teeth and jaw. By 
elderly people, toothless and weak, the juice is 
extracted from boiled cones. The mass gained 
from softened pandanus may be dried in the 
sun and preserved for the ‘winter months’ when 
the trade winds render fishing unproductive 
and fresh food scarce. 

For the same purpose of ‘winter’ preser¬ 
vation the breadfruit is sliced, soaked for three 
days in salt-water, mashed, kneaded, and 
packed in baskets. Eight days later it is again 
kneaded and buried in a hole, the sides of which 
are set off with huge leaves. But oh — when 
the pit is opened to withdraw the family’s 
weekly supply, so terrific an odor exhales from 
it as to make the smell of Limburger cheese 
seem mild and cologne-like. Happily, in its 
mixture with arrow-root the preserve loses to 
a degree its disgusting stench. Yet, there re- 

17 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


mains more than the mere suspicion of it, and 
upon swallowing a piece one certainly looks for 
a draught of fresh cocoanut water. 

Fish forms the real staple food of the natives. 
It is caught in a hundred clever ways: with 
shell or steel hook; in nets, baskets, and 
fetchers; with unbaited hooks dragged in the 
wake of a sailing canoe or dancing on the sur¬ 
face of the sea; at the edge of the reef and 
in the midst of the lagoon where the pure and 
transparent water permits distinct visibility 
to a depth of sixty feet. 

In the mind of the native there is no greater 
exciting and even festive game than the catch 
of the bonito. As soon as a school is sighted 
two canoes surround it with common cocoanut 
twine and pull the line to the seashore, while 
from several canoes in the rear men dive here 
and there. The school — incredible as it 
sounds — never plunges under the floating line 
to escape, but slavishly follows the circuit. On 
the table reef the shoal is left unmolested till 
the tide has ebbed to a depth of one foot. At 
the signal given by a high person all men, in 
a wild scramble, spear their roped victims until 


[*] 


NATIVE FOOD 


the sea is literally purpled with blood. One 
does not know, especially when heated natives 
stab their neighbors’ foot or calf, where to 
locate the climax of confusion and agitation — 
in the splashing waves or the dodging bonitos 
or the spearing men. In this instance calm 
returns to men and billows at the very moment 
the hitherto barred women and girls invade the 
crimson waters and take the struggling booty 
from the blades of their respective relatives. 
The spoil usually provides every family with 
fish for a week or two. 

Individual enjoyment rewards the fisherman 
who dives near the outer reef in the company 
of a live parrot fish held on a short line. Its 
effort to discard the painful hook attracts the 
attention of liberty-crazed brethren in the 
neighborhood, and while they surround the 
prisoner and engage in a fraticidal battle the 
near-by diver spears a dozen of them in a 
minute. 

The flare of the torchlight in a nightly sailing 
canoe causes thousands of flying fishes to wing 
their flight into nets held in the rear of the 
light. 


[ 9 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


Old fishermen, distrustful of their bait, resort 
to the power of magic and invite their stubborn 
and reluctant prey to hook and canoe in the 
most humorous and charming language: • ‘ Come 
and board my canoe; protect thyself from the 
rays of the sun under the soft mat which a 
pretty maid has sent thee from the shore!” 
“See here, I have found food for myself, 
whereas thou circlest around thine. Just grasp 
the maiden’s hand (the hook) and shake that 
little stick. I am mad at thee. He knows that 
he shall not drop into the canoe nor hurt him¬ 
self. There he swings toward me!” 

Every fish is baked in its scales on hot 
ashes. Its inner and outer dressing proceeds 
with the appetite of the dining person. 

Foreigners need cautioning against various 
kinds of poisonous fish. Their venom rests not 
on the superstition and vain fear of antiquated 
cranks, but is real, since actual poisoning with 
contraction of the throat, cramps and delirium 
grips foolish youths who disregard the solemn 
warning of their elders. 

You may purchase hundreds of tasty fish 
from the native; his remains the most delicately 
[ 10 ] 


NATIVE FOOD 


flavored dainty — the cocoannt crab. He 
relishes not so much the meat of its enormous 
pincers as the butter contained in its large 
abdomen. Well, epicurean let him he on this 
single luxury of his bill of fare. 


CHAPTER III 


Beauty and Ugliness 

I N FORMER years man’s fibre dress com¬ 
peted advantageously in volume and airi¬ 
ness with the hoop-skirt of white femininity 
and the modern side slit had its superior in the 
pair of anterior and posterior mats which 
cloaked woman’s body from hips to ankles. 
Fresh air and cocoanut oil shielded her bust 
either charmingly or uncharmingly according 
to age and build. Not a trace of the famous 
‘ 4 bateau” neckline. 

At the introduction of western civilization 
men adopted the foreign settler’s garb with the 
sole exception of the shoe, which could hardly 
lodge extremities strongly developed and dis¬ 
tanced through arboreal climbing; women 
graced themselves with the well-known toga¬ 
shaped Hawaiian gown. Adorned with a 
stylishly bordered garment, with gold or tor¬ 
toise rings on her finger, a fresh wreath of 

[ 12 ] 





Carrying Drinking Water in Cocoanuts-Nauru 



'Bpf N f f 

IJ 

rxw 



A Summer Pavilion-Nauru 





































































































































« 

























BEAUTY AND UGLINESS 


white or red flowers on her neck and head, and 
fragrant with high-priced perfumery, an island 
belle might tempt even Cupid’s heart. 

Far from repulsive, indeed, is the native with 
his tan skin, soft black hair, coffee-brown eyes, 
slightly protruding lips, trivially prominent 
cheek-bones, a nose straight in profile though 
flattened at the nostrils, and a round chin in 
harmony with the slanting forehead and the 
oblong contour of the face. In line with our 
principle of the powder-puff is also the native’s 
conception of a beautiful complexion — the 
lighter, the prettier. 

Woman cultivates a nimble and elegant gait. 
The charm of her noble deportment is enhanced 
by flowing or braided hair. This is treated at 
regular intervals first in the sea, then in fresh 
water, and is finally anointed with freshly 
grated cocoanut meat. A cleaner scalp there 
could not be but for a throng of marauders 
which, routed out of their lairs one by one, are 
put to death with the teeth. Ideal teeth must 
be as “ regular as fence-posts, as hard as shell, 
and as white as ocean foam.” 

The native’s sight is keen. His eye 


[ 13 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


distinguishes the rising smoke of a distant 
steamer when ours perceives only the barren 
sky line. On the other hand it does not discern 
blue from green, nor does it possess the notion 
of the parallel, as is evidenced by all native 
huts in their oblique position to the road. 

To mar health and beauty there existed till 
the arrival of the white man but one malignant 
disease, viz., leprosy. Leprosy appears in 
copper-colored ulcers and shrinks the bone of 
the fingers and toes in such a manner as to 
leave the nails at the end of hideously shortened 
stumps. 

All other diseases yielded to the power of 
plant medicines administered by certain fam¬ 
ilies in strictest secrecy. Previous to the treat¬ 
ment the sick person was rubbed with oil, sand, 
and salt-water. Henceforth the quack-doctor, 
the patient, and their respective husbands and 
wives were barred from marital relations under 
pain of aggravating the illness or bringing 
about a relapse. Sexual restriction held until 
the complete recovery of the patient and ended 
with a banquet tendered to the medicine-man. 

Toward the end of the eighties malignant 


BEAUTY AND UGLINESS 

diseases were imported from the Caroline 
Islands. As far back as the middle of the last 
century American whalers used to sail to the 
Eastern Caroline Islands to ‘ winter’ and pro¬ 
vision their vessels for the next season. The 
sailors, upon chasing sea-monsters, gave free 
rein to their social inclinations whilst the hand¬ 
some brown lasses entertained no suspicions of 
fatal disease. The germs were carried to the 
Marshall Islands by two chiefs who drifted to 
Kusaie and were repatriated on a trading ship. 
In a short while pernicious infections became 
manifest in the form of putrid sores, short-lived 
babes, and a rapidly declining population. 

The natives were helpless even after the 
settling of a European physician on the main 
island of Jaluit. His professional services re¬ 
mained unavailable, because the chieftains 
refused to defray the expense of treatment and 
operation for their subjects. 

In the year 1904 a certain chieftain of the 
western group intended to purchase a new 
schooner. His and his father’s subjects were 
forbidden to see the doctor. Called to account, 
he explained indifferently that he could not 
[i5] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


allow ‘unnecessary’ outlays. When he was 
further asked to give his reason for objecting 
to the operation on a woman whose relatives 
had promised a certain amount of money, he 
replied calmly but brutally: “If an operation 
is uncertain of success, let the patient die in 
peace.” These words revealed in utter frank¬ 
ness how little common natives are cared for 
and how ungratefully the chieftains act toward 
slaves who, year after year, lay Croesus-like 
treasures at their feet. 


[16] 


CHAPTER IV 


Characteristics 

O NE hundred years ago Adalbert von 
Chamisso drew an extravagant picture 
of the natives. He portrayed them as 
“ lively, inquisitive, witty, brave, upright, hos¬ 
pitable, chaste, without duplicity or guile ;' 9 he 
praised their “innocent and graceful customs, 
exquisite modesty, well-bred politeness, and 
exceptional cleanliness/ , In another breath he 
avowed that the islanders stole, broke their 
word, and waged war. 

As a matter of fact, the native is sparing in 
words, but very intelligent. His attempt at 
explaining natural phenomena and analysing 
character amazes the explorer. In conversation 
witty sallies follow one upon another to the 
accompaniment of ringing laughter. 

Congenial and sympathetic, he shows untir¬ 
ing devotion to sick relatives and friends. At 
all times the patient's hut is densely filled with 

p7] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


visitors and the tidings of his demise are 
broken to landing members of the family with 
utmost consideration. 

His love and friendships are tender. A 
chieftain wrote to a missionary friend: “I am 
glad to write to tell you how I am faring. I am 
well. Though feeling fine I can not forget 
thee, my dearest friend. I am sorry at not 
seeing thee every day. My throat (heart) is 
burning, because I can not converse with thee. 
What could drive thee from my throat? Nothing 
but death will make me forget thee. As long as 
I live I shall remember thee until I die and 
vanish from this earth. ,, 

Intimate love rings in the following literally 
translated poem: 

It is a fact: I can think of thee only, 

There is no evading it. 

Wrapped in. thoughts of thee 

I am weary in my sleep 

And toss to and fro on my couch. 

I can bear it no longer. 

I struggled; however, in vain. 

No, death only will part thy soul and mine. 
What could estrange our love? 

Who separate us? I scorn everything. 

[ 18 ] 


CHARACTERISTICS 

I again weaken, infatuated with thy voice 
Which I love and causes me to sigh. 

Oh, I recognize her who is mine. 

O friend, who could break our Love f 
0 friend, when shall I see the joyful hour 
When I may stand by thy side 
And lean against thee? 

Who will meet thee to tell of my love ? 

Friendship means actual relationship. Be¬ 
ware! A chieftain of the Mille atoll deigned 
to befriend me. Two years after his ‘ first 
declaration’ I paid a visit to his wife’s 
matronly mother. She was ill and under the 
care of thirty women. At the hour of departure 
she politely reprimanded me for calling her by 
name and not by the sweet title of ‘mother.’ 
Joking for an explanation I received the painful 
initiation charge: “See here, you are my son- 
in-law’s friend; hence I am your mother; my 
sister is your aunt; my brother is your uncle; 
my son-in-law’s wife, my daughter, is — your 
wife.” I bowed gracefully out of the hut and 
blushingly whispered a word of excuse. 

Sensitive to humiliation, a girl said: “The 


[19] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


teacher may beat me if he will, but he must 
not shame me before the other pupils.” A 
slight causes keen feeling, and biting remarks 
cut to the quick. At the meeting of relatives 
and acquaintances bashfulness dictates a quiet 
and taciturn behavior; a short pause ensues 
before the joy of welcome breaks all bounds. 

Hospitality is paramount. Whoever passes 
by a hut at mealtime — although etiquette for¬ 
bids to arrive precisely at that hour — is offered 
food and drink. Nay, a mother serves out 
everything, even to strange children, keeping 
for herself a mere mouthful. Reminded of her 
excessive liberality she answers with the pro¬ 
verb, “Were my fingers not made to be 
spread V 9 A miser is branded by the saying, 
“Hast thou eatables thou passest over yonder; 
have I thou passest here.” 

Of course, the hospitality extended to a 
stranger implies the truism that one good turn 
deserves another. He is expected to defray 
expenses and to distribute among the poor hosts 
the very gifts received at their hands. His 
generosity is hailed with the blessing, “Since 


[20] 


CHARACTERISTICS 

thou returnest thy present ashore, may favor¬ 
able wind wait on thee!” 

The native is peaceful and not easily excited; 
but when he does fly into a passion, his anger 
as usual with phlegmatics — knows no limit. 
At sea his calm can not be shaken by the most 
threatening tempests. Familiar with the ocean 
from earliest youth he braves storm and waves. 
Is the picture all light? By no means. 

Abov^e all there is indolence and laziness. 
Nearly all work, such as canoe-building, mat¬ 
braiding, sewing, washing, ironing, and cook¬ 
ing, is done in a sitting position. But why 
work at all? Mother earth has spoiled him: 
soil and ocean yield eatables in abundance. A 
missioner who chided the natives for their lack 
of industry was criticized by a chieftain in the 
terse and characteristic remark, “Isn’t he a 
simpleton; he does not seem to recollect that 
cocoanuts hang high up on the palm ! 9 9 

Telling lies is a matter of course; the liar 
merely challenges his hearer to discover the 
truth. At a dance I complimented a woman on 
her cleverness in composing librettos and songs. 
To my amazement she turned all praise 


[21] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


aside and denied having ever written a piece 
of poetry. Reference to her well-known talents 
proved of no avail. Finally I said to her: ‘ ‘ Did 
yon not compose the song for the sailors who 
recently departed for San Francisco aboard 
‘Hercules’? She blushed and said naively: 
‘ 1 Oh, I thought you did not know it . 9 9 

A native was suspected of having stolen 
chickens at the governor’s. He pleaded not- 
guilty until the governor-judge exclaimed in a 
rage: “Not only did you steal chickens from 
me this time, but on former occasions you stole 
some too!” Insulted by the accusation the 
thief retorted: “No, judge, this was the first 
time! ’ ’ 

No one hesitates to confirm his false state¬ 
ment by oath as long as God is appealed to as 
a witness. His countenance changes, however, 
at the request to swear “by the face of son or 
daughter” and especially “by the face of his 
first-born child. ’ ’ 


[22] 







Kids — Nauru 








CHAPTER V 


Social Strata 

A LONG procession of men moves slowly 
and gravely from the lagoon shore to 
the middle of the island, carrying on 
poles baskets of breadfruit, cocoanuts, and 
baked fish, dozens of large pandanus fruit, and 
stocks of bananas. Their lively chatter ceases 
upon reaching the front of a large hut. The 
heavy burdens are deposited in scrupulous 
silence. Every one walks in a stooping posi¬ 
tion. Not a word is whispered before the new¬ 
comers are seated and the owner of the village 
palace, in sheer wonder and admiration, smiles 
and calls the names of certain families. At 
once two men rise and transport a basket to the 
appointed parties. More names are called and 
more baskets disappear. The remaining ones, 
with the sweetest food, are brought into the 
tiny kitchen near the large hut. A smile, and 
the caller of family names converses with the 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


providers strung in a half-circle and at a 
respectable distance from him — the high 
chieftain. 

A miniature monarch. Favored by birth and 
inheritance, he is the only property-owner. 
Every parcel of land, running from shore to 
shore, is cultivated by a family and has the 
name, though not the rights, of a ‘ homestead.’ 
Whatever the land produces from January to 
July is surrendered to the land-lord; the pro¬ 
duce of the other six months goes toward gov¬ 
ernment taxes, the support of the cotter’s 
family, and food tributes to the chieftain when¬ 
ever present on the island. The villein’s 
riches consist in the ‘fewness of his wants.’ 
‘ ‘ Execrable landlordism! ’ ’ the Irish would say. 
“Down with autocracy!” we Americans would 
exclaim. Yet the native, steeped in feudalism, 
resents interference with tradition. 

In June, 1905, a tidal-wave destroyed some 
western islands of the Jaluit atoll and reduced 
the natives to destitution. A few months after 
the sad event the high mogul returned from 
the northern islands. Soon an aged fisherman 
called on me and requested a loan of three 


[24] 


SOCIAL STRATA 


dollars. He was refused the amount, not be¬ 
cause his fishing account failed to show any 
credit, but because his chieftain, in whose favor 
the loan was suspected to be made, enjoyed the 
reputation of an inveterate miser. The old 
man begged and begged, shed tears, and im¬ 
plored as touchingly as irresistibly: “If I fail 
to pay a tribute to the chieftain he will chase 
my family from the allotted land; but if you 
hand me the amount I shall fish for you to the 
grave.’ ’ 

During the five dreadful hours of tidal-wave 
and hurricane, in 1905, the natives protected 
the home of their chieftain with unflinching 
devotion. Asked by a white settler why they 
did not seek refuge in the secure store of the 
foreign trading company, a native answered 
haughtily: “You white men may die with your 
governor; we shall meet death together with 
our chief. 

The monarch’s mere expression of a wish 
equals a command to surrender, not only in 
matters of ornament, trinket, and money, but 
also in sacred family rights. For instance, he 
praises the charms of a woman and her husband 


[25] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


opposes him not; he enters a home and asks 
the man to spend the night somewhere else, 
leaving the life-partner to his control. Aye, 
he claims the ‘right of the first night’ to every 
pubescent girl, his own daughters included. 
Even after adopting Christianity — more or 
less sincerely — he prefers ‘excommunication’ 
to the foregoing of this voluptuous right. No 
doubt, husbands and parents could contend 
against the infringement of their primary 
authority; however, the thwarting of evil 
designs would mean to them banishment to 
some distant island, forcible separation from 
one another, or complete poverty. 

A girl of high descent possesses the same 
rights as a chieftain. If she is married to a 
nobleman her invitation to a youth for a 
nightly interview imperils his life inasmuch as 
the jealous chieftain, unmindful of his wife’s 
privilege, tries to punish her chosen lover even 
with death. 

The exercise of these prerogatives after the 
introduction of venereal diseases depopulated 
the islands. Inevitably the ‘society people’ 
were most severely stricken; the rank of nobil- 


[ 26 ] 


SOCIAL STRATA 


ity, inherited by a mother’s exalted birth, be¬ 
came extinct for the lack of noble female scions. 

For several decades the chieftains were thus 
obliged to adopt into polygamy’s harem the 
most desirable fairies of the vassal class and to 
establish the order of second class wives. Poor 
women, subjected to precise rules of seclusion: 
sojourn in the hut by day and by night, no out¬ 
ing to the seashore unchaperoned, no visit with 
men of high or low rank. 

At the chieftain’s death his property and 
wives are inherited by a brother of his; in the 
absence of lateral heirs the land becomes the 
estate of his direct descendants and the wives 
live with more distant relatives. To mourn the 
late lord all female vassals cut their hair and 
spend six days and six nights on his grave. 
After this official mourning no woman is per¬ 
mitted to pass by the seashore side of the 
chieftain’s grave, lest his passions flare up 
again, passions which polygamy and old age 
had long since set at rest. 


[*7] 


CHAPTER VI 
Woman and Youth 

C1V"INDLING wood of my throat!’ ‘My 
fragrant wreath!’ ‘Iris of my eye!’ 
‘My own face!’ such sweet expressions 
aid a boy of fourteen to ingratiate himself into 
the favors of a pretty girl, twelve years of age 
and fully developed. Should the wooing youth 
meet with her parents ’ disapproval, her burning 
love might flash in a firy poem: 

Oh, wait for me at night! 

Crouch hiding near my hut! 

We meet each other so seldom 
Spite our ardent yearning. 

Thou hast begun; go on, 

Onward urge to obtain the end! 

However, keep silent, silent, 

That no one hear of it. 

Thou hast begun; there’s no return. 
Condemned to death, who fears ? 

Free is the path to the favored site, 

The site that fills my longing. 

[28] 




Family of the High Chieftain-Nauru 





V 


» 






































* 
































































• w ■ .. 


























i 
































WOMAN AND YOUTH 


Quick! Neither dirt nor dampness hurt. 

What shall I do ? Always sigh in vain ? 

A grave I shall dig and nurse the secret 

That no one know about it. 

Let him sink down and prepare the site 

To satisfy his love for me. 

He is enraptured with this lassie,: 

To thee alone belongs this hour. 

Marriage is contracted without pompous 
ceremonies. Presents offered by the bride¬ 
groom to his father and mother-in-law assuage 
their sorrow at the loss of their daughter. For 
ever? Perhaps not. It is mutually understood 
that the ties of wedlock shall be loosened at the 
first serious quarrel or suspicion of unfaithful¬ 
ness. Only through the birth of a babe is the 
marriage bond made real and unbreakable, but 
since the arrival of offspring is artificially post¬ 
poned, security is held in suspense for years. 

Young boys and girls, without lessons in 
eugenics, are familiar with sex problems and 
sexual intimacies. It is the part of cunning 
to conceal prenuptial and postnubial violations. 
Early in the evening the young man retires to 
a secluded place and folds a pandanus leaf in 

L 2 9 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


equal parts. If there is no protruding tip, the 
divination announces absolute safety in enter¬ 
ing his sweethearts hut even in the light of 
the full moon; if the folds of the leaf show a 
projection, the oracle spells a possible exposure 
to observation and counsels postponement of 
the meeting. 

Unfaithfulness leads to brawls, altercations, 
and bloodshed. Should the married woman 
hate separation from her husband, she tries to 
retaliate in body at the first chance or brand 
the guilty woman with public blemish. To my 
knowledge an angry spouse bit a chunk out of 
her rival’s cheek, and another laid the lower 
part of her antagonist’s septum bare. 

Yet there are exemplary married couples, 
fond of each other and of their children. 
Woman’s grief at the loss of her husband 
grows to such intensity that she, in an astral 
form, begins to fly. You, dear reader, may 
laugh at the idea of a living aeroplane in 
mourning, but every native will call you a cold- 
hearted creature, unfamiliar with the pangs 
of love’s sorrow. According to common asser¬ 
tion a flying woman resembles a mysterious 

[ 30 ] 


WOMAN AND YOUTH 

fairy with outstretched body, waving hair, 
arms bent backward, gliding majestically 
through the air towards a thicket, and resting 
weightless on the extremity of a palm leaf. At 
the same time she may be seen, moaning and 
restless, near the seashore. 

Babies are born in the presence of adults 
and children. The happy mother rests near 
a fire on which four sticks of wood are burning. 
Her body is frequently and vigorously massaged 
to restore it to its original form and beauty. 
Two days later she again fulfills her domestic 
duties and nurses her infant for two or three 
years with tender care. 

The child is named after animals, plants, or 
lifeless objects, never after father and mother. 
This name is not spoken by its bearer. If you 
wish to learn a native’s name, please ask some¬ 
one else. If you admire somebody’s baby, never 
be as impolite as to pat its head and cheeks — 
they are sacred and noli me tangere. Also 
beware of taking the balmy wreath from the 
head of a chieftain’s daughter: it’s a grievous 
insult next to defloration. 

The little ones spend most of the time near 


[3i] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


the seashore, playing in sand and waves. With 
its freedom of motion the watery element 
attracts the little urchins, free from and un¬ 
hampered by clothing. When parental pride 
begins to clothe innocence, the first dress covers 
the boy’s body from shoulder to hips and the 
girl’s first apparel is worn retrousse. 

Public bashfulness belies inner corruption. 


[32] 









Three Kiddies — Nauru Ready for the Dance — Nauru 








CHAPTER VII 


Religion 

L ORD Canoe said to the ocean: * 1 Have a 
reef!” and the atoll appeared. “Have 
sand!” and dirt spread over the rock. 
“Have plants!” and the vegetation grew. 
“Have birds!” and birds flew about. One of 
them circled higher and higher and suspended 
the sky above the clouds. “Have men!” and 
four men came in sight: West, North, Day- 
maker, and South. 

A carbuncle grew on Lord Canoe’s calf and 
issued, on breaking, Mr. Solid Rock and Lady 
Fertile Earth. Lady Earth gave life to two 
boys: Zenith and Nadir. These, perched with 
their uncle on a huge arrow-root stalk, which 
developed tropically tall, reached the sky. 
Constant strife forced Solid Rock to nightly 
wakes, during one of which he dropped from 
the firmament and settled on the Jaluit atoll. 
Another carbuncle on the thigh freed him from 

[33] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


Master Clever-Head and Father-of-the-Rain- 
bow. Sent to Aunt Tortoise at Bikar, Father- 
of-the Rainbow refused to swallow a nauseating 
drink and remained stupid, whereas Clever- 
Head consumed the disgusting potion and 
proved superior to his brother in talent and 
rascality until a triangular love affair in the 
Gilbert Islands ended his career. 

According to another version the anthro- 
pogeny is as follows: 

Lord Canoe 

Solid Rock Lady Earth 
Nadir Zenith Tidal-Wave Cocoanut 
Rainbow Clever-Head 

This religion is evidently island born and 
island narrow-visioned. 

All the deities, or super-men, are feared and 
worshiped by the natives as ‘constrictors ’ be¬ 
cause they occupy the main points of the com¬ 
pass, restrict man’s physical and spiritual 
happiness through disease, witchcraft and 
dreams, and command a host of ‘evil ’spirits’ 
whose business it is to afflict the living and steal 
souls from languishing bodies. Only fairies 
and elves — who lead a frolicsome life, haunt 


[34] 


RELIGION 


the thickets, and occasionally appear in human 
forms — enrich their favorites with valuables 
unknown to mortal eyes and even with living 
treasures, commonly called babies. Lack of 
secrecy, however, puts gnomes and charms to 
flight. 

The Lord God resides on the island of Eb 
(Yap?) ‘somewhere in the west/ Twdce a year 
— at the beginning of the breadfruit and of 
the pandanus season — a public sacrifice is 
offered to the gods. At the more solemn 
pandanus festivity a cocoanut leaf, folded in the 
form of a bird, is put on the ground and thus 
introduced by the sorcerer: “This bird has 
been sent eastward by the gods to taste the 
food of the islands.” He then pierces a 
pandanus fruit, carries it westward, and 
thrusts it piecemeal into the ocean. A com¬ 
mittee of specially selected men retire to the 
seashore to cook eatables on a large hearth for 
the general public and small specimens on a 
side fire for the gods. These specialties are 
placed in a canoe-shaped pandanus leaf and 
are set adrift on the ocean. After two days of 
seclusion the picked men, in wild excitement, 

[35] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


return to the meeting place. All men and the 
fully adorned women stream into the sorcerer’s 
hut where the wrinkled sorceress belabors and 
kicks and curses a pandanus fruit. A copious 
meal ends the festivity. 

After death the human spirit dwells in the 
grave for six days and rises to wander across 
the southern and northern reefs to Eorok, an 
island surrounded with a stone wall. The soul 
which approaches the island in the form of a 
large sailing canoe will live on crab butter and 
appear to mortals; the soul which nears the 
island in the form of a small canoe can not 
swing over the wall and is condemned to live 
on holothurians. Life in the beyond lasts 
as long as the possibility of apparitions and 
allows native spiritists years of occult com¬ 
munications. 


[36] 


CHAPTER VIII 


Superstition 

W OMAN, raised in sensuous gratification 
to the pinnacle of fascination and 
adulation, may spoil many an enter¬ 
prise. Let her peep at the fisherman while they 
encircle and guide a school of bonitos to the 
reef and failure is certain. Let her partake of 
a fish speared by a first-born and he loses all 
skill in thrusting the weapon. Let a woman 
step ashore one of the northern million-bird 
islands without having previously submitted to 
a sorcerer’s incantation and not a single bird 
will be caught. Let a woman be at the seashore 
whilst early in the morning a man divines with 
the aid of a pandanus leaf and the leaf is power¬ 
less to answer correctly. It is equally ineffec¬ 
tive when the sorcerer unites with his wife 
before he throws it into the ocean and bathes 
in the waves. Aboard a canoe the same pan¬ 
ts;] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


danus leaf is weak when a woman changes posi¬ 
tion at the time of the divination. During the 
catamenial days every married woman lives 
retired in a special hut at the west side of 
which she cooks her own meals; should one of 
her sons see the smoke of this fire he will be 
blind in warfare. During the same days of 
seclusion a woman is not permitted to travel 
on a large canoe with the other passengers; 
her abode is a small kennel of pandanus leaves. 
An infant is hurt by evil spirits when an expec¬ 
tant mother leaves her hut after dusk. While 
a young mother is being massaged no one is 
allowed to eat of her food. 

To eat two different kinds of fish at the same 
meal relaxes the bowels; to eat fish and meat at 
the same meal causes colds and cowardice; to 
eat the fruit of an island which was tabood by 
the chieftain, without wearing a string around 
the wrist, makes a person ill. Whoever eats a 
breadfruit which in its ripeness fell from the 
tree and burst, will break a limb. Fish can not 
be hooked by a fisherman who eats cooked food 
before fishing or passes by graves. Who eats 
[38] 


SUPERSTITION 


raw fruit first and tortoise meat immediately 
after, loosens his teeth. 

When a dead whale drifts to the east side 
of an atoll, the death of a chieftain is imminent; 
when it drifts to the west side, the birth of a 
noble baby is near. Death is presaged to par¬ 
ents by the insatiable appetite of their children, 
the premature bearing of a pandanus tree, and 
the precocious development of their daughter. 
The imminent death of some person is evident 
by unsteady wind or the appearance of a 
cumulo-stratus cloud. 

To bathe an infant in the smooth sea while 
Pleiades are rising early in the morning, is 
healthful. 

The increasing voice of a lizard in the 
thatched roof indicates constant welfare of dis¬ 
tant relatives; its morendo the near death of 
one of them. An extended trip is foretold by 
a crab walking across one’s sleeping mat. 

The finger which points to a rainbow will 
turn crooked. 

The approach of a canoe or of a large vessel 
from another atoll is told by strong waves on 
the inner shore, by short showers in the north 

[39] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


and south, by fleece-like cirrus clouds at night, 
and by extraordinary sleepiness. 

A fisherman is made aware of his wife’s 
unfaithfulness at shore by two flying fishes 
approaching his net in a parallel position. 


[40] 









































Sturdy Manhood — Nauru 





CHAPTER IX 


Figurative Language 

H E IS the child of a tropic bird.” He 
is a chieftain's child, because the red¬ 
tailed tropic bird, called by Linne the 
‘ son of the sun, ’ is king of the tropical seas. 

‘ 1 She leans against a black parrot fish.' ’ She 
is married to a chieftain. The black parrot fish, 
a great delicacy, is the proper food for persons 
of rank. 

“Beware of the smile of a frigate bird!” 
Never trust the smile of a chieftain. Hearing 
agreeable and disagreeable news he may greet 
the guilty with a smile, but he will punish him 
sooner or later. 

A good chief is “a lantern fish.” As this 
fish keeps in darkness and hiding till its prey 
comes in sight, so the chief stays at home to 
receive the food contributions of his subjects. 

The native who leaves his food baskets in 
front of the chieftain's residence in his absence 


[41] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


and does not wait for his return “ deposits the 
baskets a la sandpiper;” he is restless like a 
limicoline bird. 

6 ‘ The freight of an amber-gris canoe appeases 
one’s hunger.” All amber-gris found on the 
seashore must be brought to the chieftain. The 
tiniest piece of food given by him to the natives 
who welcome him to their island proves 
satiating because of its high origin. 

It is impolite to pay the chieftain an extended 
visit, since many subjects like to have a private 
conversation with him and hate to explain 
matters in the presence of others. Hence the 
warning is given to the one who dwells too 
long: 44 Lighten the bottom of the fishing net!” 
Since shadows frighten fish away, fishermen 
carefully avoid Standing in the light of their 
seine. 

Even the lowliest chieftain is “a tree knot 
that breaks the ax.” A canoe-builder who 
fails to pay attention to a small knot may spoil 
his broadax; a native who neglects a nobleman 
because of his lesser prestige courts disaster, 
since he too has the right to condemn subjects 
to death. 


[42] 


FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE 


In the estimation of a chieftain the common 
native is but a ‘ ‘ shark-hook. ’’ The shark which 
disappears with hook and bait inflicts an insig¬ 
nificant damage on the fisherman as a shark- 
hook is never made of precious mother-of-pearl. 
Likewise death, in taking a subject, deprives the 
chieftain of a relatively worthless being. 

Yet, the chieftain’s son must not “cut down 
the cocoanut husking-stick.’ ’ Such a stick is 
found near every hut and is used daily; its wan¬ 
ton destruction deprives the native of a most 
necessary means of preparing his daily food. 
Through the youth’s libertine acts the subject 
is irritated and less willing to feed the royal 
family. 

Similarly a chieftain must not “tread upon 
coral gravel,” i. e., must not exact too much 
from a poor subject. The floor of a common 
hut is covered with coral stone and coarse mats, 
whereas that of a noble hut has several layers 
of mats, the upper one beautifully woven. 

Happy is the woman who “walks under the 
strong front-beam near the lagoon,” in the fine 
residence of the chieftain; unhappy the one who 


[43] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


4 ‘hangs from a dry bough,” i. e., who is mar¬ 
ried to a pauper of low rank. 

Every chief’s wife is a “spider crab on land.” 
The spider crab is poisonous — the abuse of 
a noble woman entails death. 

When a native has to negotiate with one of 
the chief’s wives, he must “go to the channel 
through which a school of fish swims onto the 
reef” and “not to the channel through which 
they return to the ocean.” All schools of fish 
come to the table reef at definite depressions 
and the fisherman place their bag nets accord¬ 
ingly. Thus a native must address himself to 
the leading woman and not to the lower ones 
who can not gain him a favor. It would be 
like placing the seine in front of the ‘get-off’ 
cut. 

Of a common girl taken by the chieftain as 
secondary wife to his residence near the lagoon 
jealous natives say: “She became visible as 
a wild pandanus and recently made her appear¬ 
ance on the lagoon shore.” 

A chieftain who calls on another and does 
not find him on the island is fed by the sub¬ 
jects and usually shows his gratitude by offer- 


[44] 


FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE 

ing a roll of preserved breadfruit. This roll 
is given to the returning chieftain with the 
remark: “A thanksgiving gift for sweet cocoa- 
nuts/ 9 

It is a bad qualification to say of a woman 
4 ‘she entwined buds and blossoms in the same 
wreath.” In a wreath either buds alone or 
blossoms alone are used, not a mixture of both. 
The expression signifies forbidden relations 
between blood relatives or members of the same 
clan. 

Whoever contracts marriage with a near rela¬ 
tive “rests on a branch of the same breadfruit 
tree.” Such a near relative is, like a hollow 
tree, “outwardly hale but inwardly rotten.” 

An immoral individual is called an “eal 
man.” He is roaming about and appears near 
a hut from one direction and another, as an 
eal on the table reef peeps through this hole 
and that to snatch a victim. 

A thief is 6 snail-fingered. ’ Everything sticks. 

A person recovering from illness in spite of 
obstensible neglect on the part of relatives was 
“cut off as a sea snake.” The sequestered part 
of a snake keeps in motion long after death. 

[45] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


A man caught in the act of immorality is a 
4 ‘child in answering,’’ i. e., as imprudent as a 
child, entrusted with a love message, innocently 
betrays the sender of the billet-doux, if the 
wrong party is addressed. 

A diligent canoe-builder is called “a sea 
urchin of the broadax . 9 9 Through his constant 
application to the art of hewing he loses flesh 
and his ribs resemble the spines of a sea urchin. 

“Never believe an answer a la meeting!” 
Public speakers, often influenced by the assem¬ 
bled crowd, hide their true opinion. Politicians. 

The native who steps aboard ship without an 
invitation to the trip and neglects to bring pro¬ 
visions along “comes aboard like a wave.” 


[46] 




















1 
















































Happy Youth-Nauru 




CHAPTER X 


Proverbs 

“ T^ON’T strike your sweethearts face!’’ 

“Don’t wrench the wings of a frigate 
bird!” Never refuse to accept a pres¬ 
ent, even the tiniest. Such a refusal is similar 
to offending a beloved person or robbing an 
eagle of its flight to ethereal heights. 

“Woman has her will; man has his.” Both 
act as they please. 

“Woman is a passage.” Any canoe is per¬ 
mitted to enter the lagoon — woman is common 
property. 

“Woman splits the tribe.” A daughter-in- 
law brings quarrels and disputes into her hus¬ 
band’s family. 

“Brothers’ children love one another; sis¬ 
ters’ children don’t fear one another.” In the 
first instance two non-related women rule; in 
the second related ones insist on their rights, 
inducing feuds and strife. 

[47] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


“I have no toes on my heels.” You irritated 
me to such extent as to make me leave you and 
your home in anger and fury, never to return. 

4 6 Fingers have spaces in between. ’ ’ Fingers 
may be spread to let the gifts of liberality slip 
from the palm of the hand through them. 

“Take on canoe eyes; throw off the land 
eyes.” You may sleep on the shore, but be 
vigilant while sailing. 

‘ 4 There’s our grave; we are about to sail, we 
are dead.” We shall brave storms and billows 
courageously; should misfortune condemn us 
to die at sea, the ocean shall be our welcome 
grave. 

“We fathom the ocean, but man’s heart we 
can not sound.” 

“Don’t presume to teach a tatooing master!” 
Don’t talk wise to a man with a superior knowl¬ 
edge to yours. Tatooing is a past art. 

‘ i Don’t believe your wife! ’ ’ Accusations are 
leveled by woman against others to divert her 
husband’s attention from herself. 

“Mother is near the food basket; father is 
the father of others.’” A mother cares for her 
children who are undeniably her own flesh and 

[48] 


PROVERBS 


blood; the father may have to provide for off¬ 
spring with other women. 

“What, do you take me for someone else's 
child ? '' Brothers and sisters should exhibit 
tender solicitude for one another. 

“I was it yesterday and the day before; you 
are it in these days.' 9 The widow of a deceased 
chieftain, transferred to his brother's, is no 
longer entitled to first consideration; the 
brother's wives hold the rank of counsel. 

“She jumps over the east side of the hearth." 
A girl who is raised to the dignity of a chief¬ 
tain's wife forgets the persons whose cares 
kept her alive and in good health. 

“He steals pandanus fruit from the middle 
of the island." A daring malefactor executes 
his deed even where he be easily caught. 

“We thought his quiet behavior sincere." 
Some persons keep silent when the conversation 
runs about others; they, however, are the very 
gossipers. 

“Don't challenge a man's blood!" Don't 
challenge me for a regatta, for I shall win. 

“If you withhold this from me we shall not 
meet again but in the beyond." Refuse to 

[ 49 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


comply with my wish and we are parted for¬ 
ever. 

“Don’t dwell far from us!” Relatives quar¬ 
rel until one member of the family leaves the 
home; then his loss is keenly felt and a plea 
is entered for his return. 

“Who could trample upon or jump over his 
pleadings!” I could not resist his earnest 
prayers. 

“Don’t set anything afire!” You are telling 
evident lies. 

“Don’t knock the sun’s head!” To open 
almonds at the time of the rising sun might in¬ 
duce the solar globe to hide behind the clouds. 

“The pandanus leaf of the north is un¬ 
wrapped. ” War is declared and the wrappings 
have been taken from the shark teeth of the 
spear. 

“Don’t narrow the wide ocean!” Fisher¬ 
men should not be angry at their wives for 
throwing a fish away; the ocean contains 
aplenty. 

“Their knowledge is watered.” The other 
pretentious family does not possess the same 
thorough knowledge as ours. 

[so] 


PROVERBS 


“As if he did not look for firewood.” Some¬ 
times we hunt for objects that lie directly under 
our eyes or can not decide about obvious mat¬ 
ters. Firewood may be had everywhere. 

“Don’t hew the edge of a giant clam!” Don’t 
quarrel for petty reasons, for one word gives 
another to ruin friendship and harmony. 

“Small gifts are powerful; sticks irritate.” 
Liberality makes friends; stinginess drives 
them away. 

“He has the eyes of a flatfish.” As the flat¬ 
fish has both eyes on the upper side and swims 
on the other, so a person may be blind to the 
needs of his relatives and lavish to strangers. 

He evades a la flatfish.” A flatfish in danger 
stirs up mud and hides for safety. An evasive 
answer conceals the truth. 

“Cast-away food.” When a beloved person 
is absent food is set apart as if present, to re¬ 
member him. 

6 6 Her gum is as red as the back-fin of a gold¬ 
fish, her teeth are as white as ocean-foam, and 
as strong as a giant clam.” Biting love and 
glorious praise. 


[Si] 


CHAPTER XI 


Lost at Sea 

A FTER three years of sojourn on the 
Marshall Islands I decided to com¬ 
mandeer the knowledge of an educated 
half-breed on the Ebon atoll to revise a volum¬ 
inous dictionary and grammar of the native 
tongue. Towards the end of the linguistic task 
a chief’s schooner arrived, aboard which an op¬ 
portunity was given me to sail for Ailinglablab 
(about 150 miles north-west of Ebon.) 

At the hour appointed for sailing the chief- 
captain hesitated, awaiting the arrival of more 
provisions. From various directions canoes 
came with delicious eatables: pandanus-fruit, 
cocoanuts, breadfruit, bananas, and — last but 
not least — a good-sized hog roasted whole in 
a fireplace to a copper-burnished color. The 
old man passed the right hand over his mouth 

and smacked his lips.weigh the anchor. 

It was Thursday afternoon. A favorable 

[ 52 ] 



LOST AT SEA 


breeze led the schooner most gently from the 
passage northward. Aboard were ten men, five 
women, two girls, two babies, and only one white 
man — myself. 

Comfort? The dining-room, twelve feet 
square, contained a table with four chairs, two 
berths burdened with trunks and mats, and a 
side bench upon which stood in a row a can of 
kerosene, a can of sea-biscuits, and a can of 
sugar. Three stocks of bananas hung from the 
walls. From one corner to its diagonal, across 
the table, a line served during rainy weather 
for drying the clothes of men, women and child¬ 
ren. Amidships were two narrow cabins in¬ 
fested with thousands of cockroaches; on its 
bunks rested two mats; the pillow-slips, once 
white, had taken on the color of the natives. 

Calm reigned until Saturday evening; dark 
clouds obscured the sky and poured down tor¬ 
rential rains. The vessel rocked dangerously 
on the high waves, and the sailors drowned the 
sound of the splashing waters in their boister¬ 
ous yells. Courage steeled every heart. 
Ailinglablab was to be sighted before sunset. 

[ 53 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


Early Sunday morning the outlook heralded 
a schooner steering in our direction. At hail¬ 
ing distance, ’mid the roaring wind, the follow¬ 
ing conversation ensued: 

“Whence do you come?” 

“From Likieb.” (One hundred miles to the 
north). 

“Were you at Ailinglablab?’’ 

“No, we are looking for it.” 

The other vessel followed in our wake till 
evening when it turned west. Throughout the 
night a strong wind prevailed. Yet at dawn 
the longed-for atoll did not loom up. 

Dead calm till Wednesday. Evidently we 
had lost our course. Where might we be on the 
watery plain? 

Our provisions began to run low. In two 
days the porker had been consumed. No more 
bread but a few biscuits, some rice and sugar. 

All hopes centered on an elderly man who, 
during thirty years of navigation, had never 
experienced an unlucky voyage. After ancestors’ 
fashion he sailed by observing the waves and 
the stars. According to custom, however, he 

[ 54 ] 


LOST AT SEA 


was not allowed to take charge of the schooner 
before the chieftain would request him to do so. 
This order came on Wednesday. 

Upon examining the waves for hours and 
hours the old seaman altered the course. In 
his opinion we were between the western and 
the eastern chain of islands, far to the east of 
Ailinglablab. 

On Thursday the impatient chieftain changed 
the course repeatedly. A mild rain fell. Elec¬ 
trified by it a school of albicores neared the 
vessel, jumping to a height of twenty feet and 
parading their glittering colors in the rays of 
the sun. Four albicores were caught and were 
devoured by the natives with the eagerness of 
starved hyenas. 

On Friday morning again nothing but the 
immeasurable ocean was to be seen. The chief¬ 
tain, utterly depressed and melancholy, whis¬ 
pered to me pityingly: 4 ‘It is useless for you to 
study our tongue. We are all to die of hunger 
and thirst; you will go first since you are not 
inured to starvation as we are. ’ ’ I consoled him 
and bade a sailor climb the main mast hourly 


[ 55 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


to scan the ocean. It was sad to see him watch 
the horizon in deadly silence. 

Finally, at noon, the boatswain yelled with 
all his might, “Land, Land!” The old chief¬ 
tain— I shall never forget the expression on 
his ugly face — rushed in inordinate craze from 
his cabin opposite mine, stared at me idiotically, 
and trembled with joy. Shouts of exultation 
sounded on deck, mingled with the anxious ques¬ 
tion, “Which island, which island?” It is 
Erikub, one hundred and eighty miles to the 
northeast of Ailinglablab and uninhabited. 

The seamen counseled to set out for Likieb. 
In its harbor we dropped anchor early Saturday 
morning, happy to meet half-breeds and to 
appease our hunger. 

A few days later I reached Ailinglablab and 
chartered the same vessel to take me to the 
Jaluit atoll. At the end of this adventurous 
fortnight I vowed by Jove that never again 
would I sail on a native schooner. 

Rumor and Australian newspapers had it 
that I was drowned. Continental newspapers 
copied the report and for four months a be¬ 
loved mother mourned the death of her 


[ 56 ] 


LOST AT SEA 


favorite son till a letter, written at the boun¬ 
daries of the world, yet this side of the beyond, 
hardened the fact that his soul still pulsed in 
his body. 


[ 57 ] 


CHAPTER XII 


On Ruins 

I N THE year 1905 the trade wind blew 
continuously till the end of June. On the 
last day, at noon, the breakers increased 
in volume, overflowed the road along the sea¬ 
shore, and broke through the bulwark of the 
coral bank which ordinarily paralyzes their 
impetus. 

About five o’clock in the evening a sudden 
cry of horror rang through the island. A 
wave, as high as a house and as perpendicular 
as a wall, was seen moving to the shore. In 
an instant it wrecked the doctor’s office and 
home, several native huts, and the boarding- 
school of the Sisters, dragging teachers and 
girls in its sweep. Nearly all white men with 
their charges fled towards the lagoon side — 
the island itself measures but 400 feet in width 
— and barricaded themselves in the commercial 
[ 58 ] 


ON RUINS 


company’s large store built on high and strong 
cement foundations. 

At sunset the storm set in and developed to 
a regular hurricane. Sheet-iron, torn from the 
roofs of residences and stores, flew through the 
air; trees crashed to the ground; limbs and 
building material were hurled with incredible 
force against the walls of the storehouse. The 
air was “full of farewells to the dying.” 

The iron flagmast near the storehouse was 
battered to the ground with a loud crash. The 
front of the building gave way and a burning 
lantern was hurled toward hundreds of cans of 
coal oil. For a time it appeared as if fire would 
consume the store and drive us into the storm. 
Happily a gust of wind extinguished the flame. 

Flashes of lightning revealed more and more 
waves rolling towards the store. Two mission¬ 
aries prepared the members of their Church 
for death whilst some of the white men kept 
bottles of whiskey in readiness to drown the 
feeling of danger or death in unconsciousness. 

At midnight the waves lost their fury and 
the storm ceased to rage. For the rest of the 
night we settled in the store as best we could. 

[ 59 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


What a sad spectacle the island offered at 
daybreak! Roofless buildings, blown-off stories, 
the ground littered with trees, branches, canoes, 
boards, fence-wire, coral stones, and large 
boulders. A scene of utter ruin. 

Little by little we received word from the 
northern islets of the same Jaluit atoll and of 
two eastern atolls. The center of the hurricane 
had passed two miles north of us, killing eighty 
natives and stripping several islets of all their 
palms, and some even of their soil down to 
the solid rock. On Mille and Arno two hundred 
and ten natives lost their lives. Among them 
was a chieftain who aided me most faithfully 
and intelligently in studying the native tongue, 
customs, and myths. He was washed from 
the land. Twice he succeeded in swimming to 
the shore. The third time he became entangled 
in the roots of an overturned cocoanut palm and 
died. The son of a white trader of Mille had, 
at the appearance of the first wave, taken to a 
boat, together with a sister and his sweetheart. 
The boat was crushed by the weight of the 
impact. For a half hour he swam, sustaining his 
sister with one arm and his darling with the 


[60] 



ON RUINS 


other. A little later he tried to speak to them 
but received no answer. He was holding two 
corpses. Throughout the night he battled for 
life, alternately swimming and resting with the 
art of a desperate expert. At dawn he reached 
ashore, stark-naked and exhausted. 

A wide-spread famine followed the hurri¬ 
cane. One day an aged native with sunken 
cheeks and blue lips said to me: “I can not ob¬ 
tain any provisions from either the government 
or the Commercial Company. Now I ask you to 
take pity on my family. If you don’t, please 
hand me your shotgun and I shall kill my starv¬ 
ing relatives and myself, for life is not worth 
living.” Could Christian charity be cold- 
hearted? 


CHAPTER XIII 


Commerce 

W ITH the exception of trepang, shark- 
fins and pearl-shells the Marshall 
Islands proper furnish for export 
nothing but dried cocoanuts — copra — and for 
import they need eatables, wearing apparel, 
and building material. The trade in copra is 
profitable, since the natives are paid from 
$22 to $33 per ton whereas the commercial com¬ 
panies receive from $80 to $130 for the same 
quantity in the markets of Sydney, London, 
Marseille, and Hamburg. 

One island, however, is a “million-dollar 
jewel” owing to its valuable deposits of phos¬ 
phate of lime — Nauru, or Pleasant Island, a 
half degree south of the equator and 320 miles 
south of the Ebon atoll. 

Pleasant, indeed, is the band of cocoanut 
palms which lines the seashore and shades 
native huts as well as poetically meandering 
[62] 


After Hurricane and Tidal-Wave — Marshall Islands 















































































































•• 


















4 







s 




1 




















































































































I 































COMMERCE 


pathways. Pleasant are the perpendicular 
rocks which rise beyond the band of palms to 
a height of two hundred feet and harbor in 
their crevices enough soil to nourish a variety 
of trees, brushes, and vines. Pleasant also are 
the natives with their fine appearance, polite 
manners, and jovial disposition. Unpleasant, 
however, is the inner plateau enclosed by rocky 
ramparts, strewn with bowlders, and provided 
with a soil too poor for the growth of palms. 
Yet, this very soil contains wonderful treasures 
worthy to be exploited by England. 

Neither Sir Edward Malet nor Prince 
Bismark suspected the existence of this treas¬ 
ure when, on April 6th, 1886, they adjudged 
Nauru to German influence with equal trade 
rights for Great Britain. 

The treasure soil was found by an officer of 
the Pacific Islands Company, Sydney, Aus¬ 
tralia. Keeping the discovery a secret he 
searched for similar deposits on Ocean Island, 
of the Gilbert group, 120 miles to the east of 
Pleasant Island. While the exploitation of 
Ocean Island by the Pacific Islands Company 
was paying good dividends, the Jaluit Company 

[63] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


of Hamburg, which by charter held the guano 
monopoly for the Marshall Islands, vainly 
endeavored to secure German capital to work 
the phosphate fields of Pleasant Island. At 
this juncture the English Company offered to 
the Jaluit Company the surrender of all its 
trading stations in the Marshall group against 
the privilege of exploiting Nauru and a German 
participating investment of $300,000 in the 
newly to be formed ‘ Pacific Phosphate Com¬ 
pany. Hoping to gain a trade monopoly in 
the Marshall Islands proper the German Com¬ 
pany fell into the trap, for a year later the 
English Steamship Company of Burns, Philp 
& Co. inaugurated a trade line in the Marshalls. 
The German Company protested against their 
‘intrusion’ but was defeated through a decision 
rendered by the tribunal of The Hague. In 
buying the stations of the Pacific Islands Com¬ 
pany the Jaluit gentlemen had “bought out an 
English concern, but not Britain’s treaty 
rights.” The Phosphate Company soon paid 
enormous dividends and is reaping millions 
upon millions. At a daily export of 500 tons the 
supply of phosphate will last more than two 

[64] 


COMMERCE 


hundred years. Small wonder, therefore, that 
Great Britain, at the end of the world war, 
deigned to accept the mandate over Pleasant 
Island and complacently left the mandate over 
the less wealthy copra islands to Japan. 

Phosphate of lime consists mainly of phos¬ 
phoric acid and nitrogen. Its fertilizing agent 
is disclosed through treatment with sulphuric 
acid. 

The island is thought to have originally been 
a cone with its top near enough the surface of 
the ocean to permit madrepores and millepores 
their reef building activity. They worked 
round the cone head, first downward and then, 
having reached a certain depth, upward. Cen¬ 
turies passed. Volcanic disturbances, raising 
the island, laid bare the settlements of the 
coral builders. On the withered corals millions 
of birds found welcome resting and brooding 
places. Centuries passed again and the island 
dipped into the sea once more, giving the 
madrepores and millepores an opportunity to 
build new colonies on the waste of the birds. 
This process of raise and fall was repeated two 

[65] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


or three times. Under the alternative influence 
of air and water the guano underwent several 
chemical processes and hardened to sand and 
rock. 

The discovery of phosphates on Nauru and 
Ocean Island led business men to hunt for sim¬ 
ilar treasures in the Caroline and Pelew 
Islands. 

Since Pleasant Island has no harbor and 
the loading of phosphate into steamers is done 
in boats operating beyond the surf, bad weather 
detained many a steamer for weeks and weeks. 
Meantime others came for their turn, losing 
months of precious time and draining the Com¬ 
pany’s treasury. To obviate this evil a wire¬ 
less station was erected on the island to hail 
the chartered vessels as needed. Another wire¬ 
less was opened on the island of Yap (where 
I suffered my first shipwreck) to direct the 
shipping of phosphate from the near-by Pelew 
Islands. Twenty-one years ago, when I lived 
in Yap on goat meat and taros, I never dreamt 
that its wireless station would become the object 
of international and intercontinental strife. It 


[66] 


COMMERCE 


happened because billions of madrepores and 
millepores and seabirds created million-dollar 
treasures and a rival trade between jealous 
nations. 


[67] 


CHAPTER XIV 


New Britain 

T HE island, situated to the northwest of 
New Guinea, is 348 miles long and from 
12 to 92 miles wide, and has an area of 
9,650 square miles with an estimated population 
of 190,000 inhabitants. 

‘Dangerous’ hailed its ephithet from the date 
of its discovery. Of the natives one explorer 
said: “They are savage fellows with frizzly 
hair; they eat human flesh and are incarnate 
rascals, and so wicked that even the devils 
could learn from them.” To add to the feeling 
of horror some adventurers spread the news 
broadcast that the natives were tailed. Of 
course the tail, far from being a natural ap¬ 
pendage of the body, proved to be a mere 
ornament used at dances, like a wooden leg 
fastened and unfastened at will. 

In their hunt for free labor on the cotton 
and sugar plantations of Samoa, Fiji, and 

[68] 


NEW BRITAIN 


Queensland conscienceless captains wrought 
incredible havoc with the natives. They rivaled 
in atrocity the worst African slave-dealers: 
children were torn from their parents, husbands 
from their wives, and tortures inflicted upon 
resisting slaves. Their bereaved relatives, un¬ 
able to distinguish well-meaning travelers, 
traders, and missioners from professional 
slace-hunters, killed many innocent victims in 
a most gruesome manner. At one station four¬ 
teen traders lost their lives. Maybe acts of 
injustice and excesses on the part of some 
frenzied specimens justified the hatred the New 
Britainers bore and partly still bear the white 
race. 

The first colonization of the island, in 1879, 
recalls the surprisingly fraudulent scheme 
enacted by the French Marquis de Ray. Un- 
familar with the new kingdom of the ‘Free 
Colony of Port Breton ’—as he called it — he 
promised the settlers large tracts of land on an 
initial payment of ten dollars. Most of the 
tricked pioneer settlers, after indescribable 
hardships, left the Free Colony for Australia, 
cursing the marquis who was sentenced by a 

[69] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


French tribunal to several years imprisonment 
and died insane. His one sane idea concerned the 
future development of a fertile and beautiful 
territory, the true home of extensive cocoanut 
and cotton plantations. 

The Gazelle peninsula, the best known part 
of New Britain, is divided into a northeastern 
plateau of low hills and a western range of 
mountains. Its deep bays are dotted with foam¬ 
ing reefs and green islets. On the elevated 
plateau of clefted pumice formation wooded 
hills are interspersed with verdant plains. 
Everywhere nature overwhelms the spectator 
with a panorama teeming with life. Tall cocoa- 
nut palms, slim arecas and giant breadfruit 
trees are overtowered by gigantic eucalyptus 
trees. Like the pillars of a cathedral they shoot 
heavenward and spread their immense crowns 
in the shape of green cupolas against the rays 
of the sun. Every tree is interlaced with para¬ 
sites, orchids, and lianes whose serpentine roots 
hang freely to the earth. A bouquet of 
perennial verdure. 

The western part of the peninsula, called 
Baining, displays the wildest imaginable scen- 

[70] 


NEW BRITAIN 


ery. Low hills and narrow valleys lead to 
towering mountain chains and deep ravines. 
On a sunny day the lofty ridges and barren 
peaks strangely contrast with the wood-clad 
slopes and gullies. Almost everywhere the 
trees, growing side by side, form an impene¬ 
trable thicket. Thorny lianes clasp the stems 
and boughs of large trees and dip down to 
shackle all neighboring smaller brethren with 
their living fetters. Narrow paths lead from 
village to village or to the rivers of the valley. 
Here and there colossal trees, uprooted by 
storms or stricken by old age, bar the way. 
Some show traces of fire but, soaked with rain, 
defied destruction. The natives climb over 
them until they moulder and collapse under 
their feet. 

Throngs of jabbering parrots, cooing pigeons, 
and other wild birds enliven the forest. Its 
mysterious stretches are broken by wide and 
deep rivers in which crocodiles abound. Snakes 
are numerous but harmless. Kangaroos and 
cassowaries are rare. Nearly all birds possess 
a gorgeous plumage. The many-colored butter¬ 
flies are easily the prettiest in the world. 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


Grandeur and majesty impress the lonely 
wanderer, yet this paradise is infested with 
malaria, black-water fever, dysentry, and above 
all with savages of the man-eating type. 


[ 72 ] 


CHAPTER XV 


The Cannibal 

D O YOU picture the man-eater of New 
Britain as a jet-black devil with a 
skeleton framework, large eyes, thick 
reddish lips, and an apelike chin? Undoubtedly 
his primeval appearance, untainted by civiliza¬ 
tion, suggests terror and a respectful distance. 

He is sturdily built, muscular, and heavy- 
jawed. His black and frizzly hair hangs in curls 
about his head. Feathers or animal and human 
bones are drawn through the pierced septum 
and earlobes. 

As an object of luxury he carries an umbrella, 
and his hand-basket holds invariably — no apol¬ 
ogy is due the fair sex for their lack of vanity 
— a looking-glass. The mirror is indispensable 
for ‘fixing’ every single hair in the artistically 
‘ plucked* strip of beard. 

Living in absolute anarchy he acknowledges 
neither law nor authority. Every one is his 


[ 73 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


own judge and avenger. Strong enough to fight 
his adversary he resorts to arms; too weak and 
friendless he must needs put up with outrage 
and foul deeds. The key-note of his character 
is suspicion and fear: suspicion of man and 
fear of evil. His oval hut, with a narrow and 
low entrance and a gloomy interior, is hedged 
in with a bamboo fence. The front gate, laden 
with shells to attract attention at its opening, 
never faces the entrance to the hut. While an 
enemy or unwelcome guest removes the noisy 
hurdle of the front gate, the hut’s occupant 
escapes through a secret strategic folding door 
in the rear fence. In his isolation he communi¬ 
cates with his relatives and close kin only, and 
suspects all others as enemies. Nay, he dreads 
even the members of his own clan. Every evil 
that befalls him is due to the charms and 
incantations of ill disposed neighbors or 
deceased members of his family. 

Such dismal mistrust begets apathy, rude¬ 
ness, and cruelty. He loves to torture living 
beings. Poultry are picked alive and are let 
loose with cut-off legs to flutter to death. Hogs 
are killed by tying their snout and trampling 

[ 74 ] 


THE CANNIBAL 


them. Newborn cripples are smoked or choked 
to death. Aged men and women, no longer use¬ 
ful to society, are wrapped up in mats and 
slowly smothered. Every incestuous person is 
buried alive and sometimes covered with red- 
hot stones. Sluggers are hired to overtake an 
unsuspecting foe in the forest; his body is 
pierced from below and his neck wrenched in 
horrible agony. 

Courageous as long as he has the upper hand 
he takes to his heels at threatening danger. On 
expeditions into unknown parts of the country 
he protests fearlessness; in the presence of 
strange tribes, however, he trembles and follows 
the explorer like a pet-dog. 

He deems it supreme folly to confess a 
culpable deed. A white man found that some 
one regularly stole the march on him into the 
poultry yard, and suspected a native who 
owned but few chickens but sold many eggs day 
after day to the very owner of the chicken 
yard. One day he asked him: “How many 
eggs have you for sale?” 

“Six.” 

“Are they fresh?” 


[ 75 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


‘‘ They are freshly laid. ’ 9 

“How is it you bring some every day?” 

i 1 My chickens lay well. ’ ’ 

“I think it was my chickens laid them.” 

“No, no, no. How could you tell?” 

“I saw them before.” 

“You insult me. How could I steal eggs from 
you and sell them to you?” 

“Look here, I marked every egg with two dots 
and replaced them in the nest.” 

He protested his innocence, but no more eggs 
disappeared. 

In public and especially in the presence of 
woman man is shy. Outside his settlement and 
on public roads a husband scarcely glances at 
his wife. To upbraid a man before a member of 
the fair sex is a great insult; to render him 
tractable, just threaten him with revealing his 
fault to a woman. On the morning of the mar¬ 
riage the Christian groom has often to be 
dragged from some covert hiding place. Ap¬ 
proaching the bride he turns his back to her 
and at the decisive moment both join hands 
with averted faces and downcast eyes. 

Work is shunned as a supreme evil. Man’s 


[ 76 ] 


THE CANNIBAL 


task consists in clearing the plantation. While 
he hunts, fishes, smokes, and dances, degraded 
woman is doomed to toil in the plantation and 
carry the produce to market. 

A gentleman of distinction. 


f77l 


CHAPTER XVI 


Marriage 

I N EVERY family the wife’s brother is the 
most important person. Since the children 
belong to the mother’s tribe and clan he 
claims them at an early age. It is his duty 
to provide for their future and to buy them 
life partners. 

In most instances the stingy uncle acquires 
his nephew’s bride as cheaply as possible, i. e., 
in her young years. Aye, children are bargained 
away in marriage before they enter the world. 
The poor groom, unable to choose according to 
his own taste, must wait patiently and is some¬ 
times forced to answer the query about his 
wife with the words: “She is still carried on 
her mother’s hip.” In no instance may the 
young man say: 

“She is a woman, therefore may be wooed, 
She is a woman, therefore may be won.” 
The match-maker, upon choosing a girl for 

[ 78 ] 




















9 






















































♦ 


















































MARRIAGE 


his nephew, sends a spear together with shell- 
money to her uncle. Acceptance of the present 
hails his willingness to consider the proposition. 
On a certain day both meet and barter about 
the price of the bride, which ranges from five 
to seventy-five dollars according to her rank 
and age. 

At the ceremony of betrothal the young girl, 
in the presence of her assembled relatives, ad¬ 
vances toward the prospective bridegroom, 
offering him betel-nuts and all chewing acces¬ 
sories. If he accepts them he assents to the 
marriage which takes place as soon as the girl 
has reached a suitable age. Both families 
manifest their rejoicing by the exchange of eat¬ 
ables and shell-money. 

Frequently unfaithful himself man distrusts 
his wife and punishes even the semblance of 
wrong. He even appoints children to spy on 
her actions. If she elopes with another lover, the 
deserted husband revenges himself by damaging 
the adulterer’s property. Usually the wife’s 
laziness in preparing meals for the lazy hus¬ 
band and taking care of his plantation leads to 


[ 79 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


divorce. Her uncle is then bound to refund the 
purchase-money to the disgruntled man. 

Youths for whom a little girl is intended do 
not wait for marriage till she is of age; they 
buy, at a nominal price, an elderly widow who 
is well pleased to be provided for once more. 
Later on the young girl becomes the leading 
wife. 

Whenever a wealthy native adds a consort 
to his harem the other wives beat her, quarrel, 
scream, and fume. Every now and then they 
come to fisticuffs. Peace would be rather sur¬ 
prising. A young girl, fifth in the race, grew 
so dissatisfied with her new associates that she 
returned to her family time and again. At last 
her husband lost patience, killed and ate her. 

Newborn babies are welcomed with smoke. 
Woman after woman holds the infant over a 
fire, whispering benedictions. Their well- 
wishing folly is rewarded by the father with 
shell-money. Sometimes it happens that the 
innocent little creature is choked to death by 
the smoke it inhales at the oft repeated bless¬ 
ings. Less than a month old it is fed on solid 
food previously chewed and mellowed by its 
[ 8 °] 


MARRIAGE 


mother. It is carried, first in a cloth slung about 
woman’s shoulder, later astride the hip. 

All children, independent as soon as they 
are able to walk about, grow up wild, playing, 
rambling about the forest, strolling on the sea¬ 
shore, hunting, and returning home in the even¬ 
ing for their meal. Moral influence through 
exhortation, reward, or punishment is unknown. 
A father never strikes his progeny and the 
mother dares not: 4 ‘Hard words bruise the 
heart of a child.’’ For the slightest reason 
there is a runaway and a stay at loving uncle’s. 
True emancipation! 

Youths acquire technical knowledge through 
mere experience, not through lessons. Happily 
their gift of observation and grasp of intellect 
stand them in good stead. Soon the knowledge 
of their elders is theirs and their countenance 
betrays premature development. 

Lawlessness is invariably the result of a 
free and uncontrolled youth. The pestilential 
air of vice they breathe and the infamous spec¬ 
tacles they witness prepare their minds and 
hearts for a sturdy career of savagery. 


[81] 


CHAPTER XVII 


Warfare and Murder 

T HE various tribes are in a continuous 
state of hostility. Today one clan car¬ 
ries war into another’s territory, to¬ 
morrow the vanquished raids the victor; today 
they are man-hunters, tomorrow they are 
hunted. Their longing for murder and canni¬ 
bal repasts on the one hand and their distrust 
on the other allow them no peace. War is their 
second nature. 

At the hour of danger the drum is sounded 
and the warriors gather around a person dis¬ 
tinguished for his wealth or cruelty. The battle 
is fought either on the grass-covered plains 
which divide neighboring districts or in the 
thicket of the forest. It is the sorcerer’s task 
to throw the first spear and to insure victory 
through witchcraft. All are guided by the 
motto, ‘ 4 Victory or flight, on no account sac¬ 
rifice of life.” For safety sake dear friends are 
[82] 


WARFARE AND MURDER 

left in the lurch at the most critical stage of the 
battle. 

Great harm is inflicted by ruse, treacherous 
attacks, and cunning invasions. Since very 
narrow paths lead through the high grass 
and the forest, one can not reconnoiter beyond 
a few yards. Deep gullies, caverns, and preci¬ 
pices offer safe ambuscades from which the un¬ 
seen warrior may spear his enemy. Pits are 
dug and so carefully covered with twigs, soil, 
and decayed leaves that the keen eye of the 
natives fails to detect them. Whoever walks 
into them is doomed, as he drops with full 
weight onto the spears planted perpendicularly 
at the bottom. 

Raids upon a neighboring tribe take place 
early in the morning when the enemy is drowsy 
and readily bewildered. Before a weapon can 
be seized he is slain with a brandished club. 
Rendered lion-hearted through the sight of 
blood the warriors kill men, women and child¬ 
ren, and fell fruit-trees in the plantations. The 
bodies of the slain are carried home as trophies 
and are eaten. 

Security is unknown. The law of vengeance 
[83] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


imperiously claims bloodshed: “Blood, though 
it sleep a time, yet never dies.” The relatives 
of the murdered tribesmen are not allowed to 
rest till the murderers or their kindred are put 
to death. They roam the forest or lie in wait for 
the guilty or their kinsmen. At their appear¬ 
ance the name of the slain is called and the 
murder follows. Death again calls for retalia¬ 
tion and retaliation carries the state of war 
from generation to generation. 

Ancient enmity still lingers in the hearts of 
the natives who can not seek revenge because 
of the pressure brought to bear by their foreign 
rulers. Even Christian tribes hardly overcome 
this feeling and hate to gather in the same place 
of worship on Sundays. Two chieftains, who 
were deadly enemies, now visit and present 
each other with the customary betel, but each 
one, while accepting the present, throws it away 
for fear of poisoning. 

Inborn savagery caused the tribes to turn 
their weapons against white settlers. Among 
their innocent victims was Mrs. Wolff, the wife 
of a wealthy planter. 

On a fine morning some natives of Papara- 
[84] 


WARFARE AND MURDER 

tava called on Mrs. Wolff, offering eggs for sale. 
The lady, seated on the staircase of the rear 
porch, was testing the eggs against the snn 
when a native struck her with an ax from be¬ 
hind. Her cries for help were drowned in the 
triumphant howls of the savages bounding out 
of the near-by forest. They dragged her from 
the steps and plunged eleven spears into her 
body. The young black nurse of her three- 
month baby stood aghast. The frail charge was 
snatched away, dashed to the ground, and hit 
against a boulder. She herself died from blows. 

On the front porch sat a visiting half-breed 
girl. An old warrior rushed at her with an 
uplifted ax, but she succeeded in slipping from 
the veranda into the kitchen. The native cook 
bolted the door behind her. For a moment her 
persecutor stood in front of the door but left 
to share in looting the planter’s home. When 
he returned after a while the cook shouted: 
“The police are coming, the police are com¬ 
ing!” This warning set the savages to flight. 
The girl took to the forest and reached the resi¬ 
dence of the nearest missionary. 

While the savages ransacked the planter’s 

[85] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


home, taking rifles, shotguns, ammunition, and 
provisions, Mr. Wolff heard the wild war- 
whoops and instantly swung on horseback 
toward his station. There he beheld his wife 
and child weltering in blood. Frenzied with 
sorrow he intended to jump from the horse when 
two bullets passed near his head. Desperate, 
he drove up a steep hill. The horse stumbled 
and rolled over him. He disentangled himself 
and galloped toward the seat of government to 
summon help. 

A Catholic missionary was at the station of 
Paparatava at the time of the murder and 
heard the war cry distinctly. Soon a chieftain, 
perspiring, stark-naked, and armed with two 
spears, appeared. He offered to escort him 
safely through the throng of warriors. The 
offer, looking too dangerous, was refused. The 
chieftain then volunteered to guide him through 
the forest to safety. 

A punitive expedition was organized by the 
governor. The instigator and his relatives had 
fled to hostile tribes by whom all but the chief¬ 
tain and his wife were slain in a deep ravine 
where the police saw the dismembered bodies 
[ 86 ] 


WARFARE AND MURDER 


roasting over fires. For a time the chieftain 
and his wife roved over the mountains like 
hunted animals. They finally fell into the hands 
of the police and were shot at Paparatava. 


[87] 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Slavery 

U NTIL Christianity became a liberating 
factor slavery prevailed on the coast of 
the Gazelle peninsula and in Baining. 
At least once a year war was waged for the sole 
purpose of securing slaves. 

Such a war occured in 1896. The inhabitants 
of the small islands off the Baining coast, in 
connivance with coastal tribes, invited the 
Baining natives to make peace forever. The 
mountaineers, rejoicing at the good news, came 
to the shore laden with pigs and taros. On the 
edge of the reef the slave-hunters kept their 
canoes in readiness. Some stepped ashore, 
chewed betel, spoke of peace, embraced their 
friends, held them in their arms in token of 
friendship, and showered them with trifles. 
They then asked their guests to place the return 
gifts aboard the waiting canoes. They did. 
Near the canoes the others plied them with 
flatteries, rubbing their hair with lime, painting 


[88] 


SLAVERY 


their chests, calling them brethren, and honor¬ 
ing them with new names. 

“It is time to fear when tyrants seem to 
kiss.” While the youths, up to the hips in 
water, were admiring the objects promised 
them in return for their pigs the men in the 
canoes suddenly reached out and dragged them 
aboard. The mountaineers, taken beyond their 
depth and unable to swim, were bound to follow 
their betrayers. In vain they cried for liberty. 
They were tied to the canoes and, if necessary, 
stunned with blows. 

In the meantime the perfidious friends on the 
shore charged upon the remaining guests. The 
number of the slain, of whom the fattest bodies 
were taken home for repasts, amounted to fifty; 
the number of slaves to thirty. 

On the islands of the slave-hunters heaps of 
taros were baked and stones were heated to 
roast the slain victims. Soon after the celebra¬ 
tion a deputation sailed to the northern coast 
and spread the report of the spoils obtained. 
In a few days buyers came to inspect the human 
ware. It was high-priced, up to twenty-five 
dollars per head. 


[89] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


Invasions are made close to the coast. The 
slave-hunters crawl into the thicket and wait 
until the unsuspecting Baining people repair 
from the seashore to their homes. The hunters 
club elderly men and women and save all youths 
and children. If resistance necessitates the kill¬ 
ing of a young man the assailant regrets not so 
much the death of the slain as the price he would 
have secured in the market. 

The slave must surrender his tribal habits to 
embrace the customs of the slaveholder. So 
faithfully does he comply with his master’s 
request that he soon acts like a coast native and 
forgets his own tongue. He lives, destitute of 
right, in the family of the master in whose esti¬ 
mation he is not a man, but a beast to be treated 
in a beastly manner. His owner may kill him 
for any or no reason; no one cares or utters a 
word of remonstrance. There is no escape from 
the dreadful expectation of being slain at some 
festival. 

A slave rarely reaches old age. Labor and 
cruel treatment waste his strong constitution. 
In sickness he receives less care than a dog. 
He dies abandoned in a wretched hut or a 


[90] 


SLAVERY 


secluded place, unpitied and unmourned unless 
his master pass out shell-money to official 
mourners. 

The slave’s sad plight is supposed by the 
natives to continue even beyond the grave. His 
soul does not wander to the river Sambay in 
Nakaney to rejoice with the spirits of the 
wealthy deceased; it is doomed to roam about 
restless, molesting the living by begging, and 
bewailing its unfortunate condition. The dying 
slave leaves no fortune, and fortune alone, ac¬ 
cording to native belief, entitles to a blissful 
beyond. To escape annoyance from the penu¬ 
rious slave’s soul the living place eatables in 
certain spots and believe that food mitigates 
the dead slave’s state of grief and misery. 

The Catholic mission checked the slave -traffic 
by the erection of stations on the northeastern 
seashore of the Gazelle peninsula and in the 
Baining district. Father Rascher, a famous 
linguist and ethnologist, settled many freed 
slaves near his residence, Saint Paul, erected 
homes for them, and assigned to each a tract of 
land for cultivation. 


[9i] 


CHAPTER XIX 


Cannibalism 

O UR feelings shrink from the idea that 
man look at his own kind, from the 
viewpoint of a connoisseur, as a dainty 
and juicy roast. The report of savages slaying 
and devouring their own fellow-men sounds too 
incredible to be true. Yet even today cannibal¬ 
ism exists in New Britain and adjoining islands 
with the exception of those small territories 
which are under the direct influence of govern¬ 
ment and missions, Catholic and Wesleyan. 

A fact and facts. 

Dr. Hahl, for many years the enlightened and 
humane governor of New Britain and neighbor¬ 
ing islands, writes: ‘ ‘ On repeated expeditions in 
New Ireland, the islands situated to the west, 
and in New Hanover I had ample opportunity 
to observe the natives and gather information. 
Such was especially the case during my expedi¬ 
tion against the inhabitants of the Madine dis- 

[92] 


A Bush Patriarch — Nauru A Native Disfigured by Cannibals of 

New Britain- Nauru 
















CANNIBALISM 


trict on the eastern coast of New Ireland, and 
against the chieftain, Timeam, on the north¬ 
eastern shore of the Mausoleum Island. 

“Near the hut of the chieftain, Trenton, I 
was shown two trees covered with ax-made 
incisions. The natives described in unmistak¬ 
able words how the victims were tied to the 
trees and deprived of arms and legs, these 
being roasted before the eyes of their former 
owners unless the poor fellows previously bled 
to death. 

i i In the battle against Madine many warriors 
fell. The tribes of the northern district, deadly 
enemies of the former, had aided me in blockad¬ 
ing the coast with their canoes. The fight 
ended, I assembled my men. I then heard a 
gruesome howl of jubilation from my allies who 
but for their warlike attire were stark-naked. 
They had begun to gather the ‘booty’ and two 
men were carrying the slain chief of the hostile 
tribe, tied to a bamboo. Not knowing what they 
intended to do with the body I let them alone for 
a while. Meantime their shouts of joy increased. 
Another body was brought. The former had 
been put into a canoe. Then I was assured by 

[ 93 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


the police that a great festival would take place. 
It was plain for what purpose the canoes were 
laden. Of course the warriors obeyed my order 
to leave the bodies untouched. On the follow¬ 
ing day, however, I learned that they had eaten 
them, failing to understand why their long- 
practised customs should be abolished. As a 
matter of fact the corpses of slain enemies are 
carefully shaved, washed, covered with orna¬ 
ments, and roasted on hot stones. 

44 A former police-soldier, who had returned 
to his own country, asked permission to take 
part in the expedition against Madine. As 
usual he distinguished himself through bravery. 
As a reward, I was told, he took two corpses. 
Henceforth he avoided me, most likely because 
of his guilty conscience. 

4 4 During the battle I saved a little girl who 
was running about weeping in fear of being 
killed. In the excitement of the fray a youth, 
who had spent years in the service of a white 
man, exclaimed: 44 Master, she is good eating, 
let me roast her!* y 

Father Rascher wrote: 44 In former times 
when neither missioners nor traders were 

[ 94 ] 


CANNIBALISM 


settled on the coast of Baining cannibalism was 
a common occurence in the lives of the natives. 
During their frequent excursions they were 
offered a welcome chance to obtain human flesh. 

“Formerly the custom prevailed of slaying 
people at the least provocation. A chieftain 
about to lay out a new plantation, to build a 
hut or launch a canoe killed one or more slaves. 
The young men who spent several weeks of 
solitude in the forest before their marriage 
feast were fed on human flesh. 

“On the Baining coast it was customary in 
every family to slay slaves in spring and fall 
to regale the appetite of their neighbors. Be¬ 
fore public dances the natives of Baining were 
hunted to gratify those friends who abstained 
from pork, this abstinence being imposed on the 
members of the native secret society called 
‘inlet’.” 

At the first station erected by Father Rascher 
on the seashore of Baining, Bishop Couppe had 
the following conversation with a six-year-old 
boy: 

“Did you ever eat human flesh!” 

“Yes, three times/’ 


[ 95 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


“When did you eat it last?” 

“Yesterday.” 

“Who gave it to you?” 

4 ‘ To-Lapapar . 9 9 

“You lie, child. To-Lapapar left for the north 
to gather money shells. ’ 9 

“He came home last evening and brought 
two corpses along.” 

“Of what part of the body did you eat?” 

“Of the thigh.” 

“Do you relish human flesh?” 

“It is delicious.” 

“Is there any left?” 

‘ ‘ There is; we shall have more today. ’ 9 

“I never saw roasted human flesh; would 
you fetch me a piece?” 

“To be sure, if To-Lapapar give me some.” 

“All right, my boy; go and return 
promptly ! 9 9 

The lad failed to appear at the station for 
three days, either because he was refused 
human flesh or was rebuked by the chieftain. 
Another boy confirmed the little fellow’s asser¬ 
tion. 

In one of the orphan homes at Vuna Pope 
[96] 


CANNIBALISM 


eighty out of a hundred children frankly ad¬ 
mitted the fact of having eaten human flesh. 

In 1902 two hundred natives sailed from the 
southeastern coast of New Britain to view the 
main settlement of the white men in Blanche 
Bay. They spent a week at the government and 
mission stations and started on their home 
journey. Having rounded the first cape they 
stepped ashore near a village inhabited by 
Wesleyan and Catholic natives. They were 
heartily welcomed by the converted villagers. 
Of a sudden they seized and killed twenty men. 
A Catholic boy escaped and ran at once to the 
bishop’s residence to inform him of the mas¬ 
sacre. The prelate sent word to the Governor 
General, who dispatched thirty black soldiers 
in a gasoline launch to punish the murderers. 
On landing near the village they beheld the sav¬ 
ages grouped about fires and devouring their 
victims. Some of the two hundred cannibals 
were shot, others were captured, others fled 
into the forest. On this occasion roasted human 
flesh was brought to the seat of government to 
prove explicitly that cannibalism was an un¬ 
deniable fact. Later the bishop visited the ter- 

[ 97 ] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


ritory of the visitors and learned that only two 
of the escaped men had reached their homes in 
safety, all others having been slain and eaten. 

At a cannibal feast the corpse is cut, wrapped 
piecemeal in banana leaves, and roasted on red- 
hot stones. Each chieftain receives his share; 
the rest is distributed among, or sold to, the 
other families. 

The most exquisite dainties are furnished by 
babes, even unborn ones, and by the heart of 
adults. Could there be a more refined savagery? 


[981 


CHAPTER XX 


A Tragic Massacre 

I N HIS last letters Father Rascher com¬ 
plained of the cold, heartless, vacillating 
and ungrateful mountain tribes of Baining. 
Unaware of the secret undermining work done 
by various fomentors he plainly realized that a 
feeling of ill-will was gradually developing 
against him. Most of the parishioners had but 
recently renounced barbarism. Their savagery 
was kept alive by scenes of plunder and blood¬ 
shed, and their depraved instincts could easily 
be aroused by a skillful leader. 

Such a leader was To-Maria, a former slave 
who had enjoyed years of benefits from the 
mission. Rebuked by Father Rascher for hav¬ 
ing divorced his wife and kidnaped another 
man’s he resolved to insure heathen liberty once 
more. He roused the anger of neighboring 
tribes by stealing their hogs and the produce 
of their fields, pretending to act in the name of 

[ 99 ] 



SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


the missioner. He also told the tribes that 
Father Rascher influenced the Governor Gen¬ 
eral in building roads from village to village 
and lured settlers to the mountain region to 
rob the owners of their property. 

Little by little rumors spread that a general 
uprising against all foreigners was planned by 
To-Maria and consorts. Father paid no atten¬ 
tion to them and strove to complete his new 
church. The magnificent building was to be 
dedicated on August 26th, 1904. To prepare 
for the celebration three lay Brothers and seven 
Sisters were kept busy at the station, St. Paul. 

On the morning of August 13th, a Saturday, 
the Brothers and Sisters spent an hour of 
prayer and meditation in the church and went 
to work. Two of the Sisters left for the sea¬ 
shore to bring up various articles sent hither 
from the central station. Father Rascher, 
suffering from malaria, rested on his bed. 

To-Maria entered the bedroom to get 
Father’s shotgun and shells to hunt wild 
pigeons, as was his custom every Saturday. 
Instead of heading for the woods, and full of 
the black purpose he had evolved, he ordered 


[IOO] 


A TRAGIC MESSAGE 


a boy to open the priest ’s bedroom window and 
fired a full charge of small shot into his breast. 
The injured missioner rose, staggered to the 
dining-room, and dropped unconscious. A 
Sister, who was scrubbing the floor, screamed 
when she beheld blood trickle from the priest’s 
chest. At the same moment To-Maria bounded 
into the house. The Sister took refuge in an 
adjoining room and bolted the door. With one 
blow the murderer smashed the door, entered, 
and fired at the Sister. 

The first report of the gun was the signal 
for the other savages to attack the remaining 
members of the mission. Two Brothers had 
their head split with axes. The third one ran 
toward the school building and protected him¬ 
self with a board. A laborer, in an endeavor 
to save the Brother’s life, shielded him with 
his own body. To-Maria, nevertheless, wounded 
the Brother in the head and, through another 
charge, in the side. Four Sisters were slain 
either in their home or in the church. The only 
surviving one, having called on a sick woman 
in the village, was bandaging a girl near the 
priest’s residence when she was struck with a 

[IOI] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


club. She revived. Her assailant trembled 
and was railed by To-Maria: “Hast thou not 
the courage to kill a woman V 9 Brutal and 
heartless, he himself plunged a long bushknife 
into her stomach and trampled the victim till 
life was extinct. 

A few minutes sufficed to complete the 
massacre. 

The two Sisters who left St. Paul early in 
the morning had hardly reached the seashore 
station when Catholic men and boys, breathless 
and exhausted, informed them of the happen¬ 
ings. The priest in charge of the station, 
regardless of his own endangered life, saddled 
his horse and galloped to the hills, encountering 
on his way weeping men and women. The vil¬ 
lage was deserted. He found Father Rascher’s 
body in a pool of blood. Opening the rear door 
of the house he was sighted by the savages, who 
began to run towards him with uplifted axes 
and piercing cries. In his defenseless position 
he could but make for his horse and return 
swiftly to his station. 

Before leaving the seashore he had hastily 
[I 02 ] 


A TRAGIC MESSAGE 

jotted down a warning note to Father Rutten, 
whose residence was located farther in the 
mountains. It came too late. He was resting 
on a deck-chair and reading a book on the 
martyrs of the catacombs. A native fired 
through the canvas and split his skull. A throng 
of others jumped on the porch and crushed his 
head with stone axes. 

The mountain tribes looted the station of St. 
Paul, taking whatever was deemed useful, such 
as clothing, canned food, knives, carpenter tools 
and ornaments, and scattering chalices, lamps, 
books, and school-plates. Three orphan boys 
were killed and eaten near the residence of the 
Sisters. The savages finally cleansed their 
bodies from blood and dust in a near-by spring. 

As soon as possible a sailing boat was dis¬ 
patched to the Governor General. In the after¬ 
noon some Catholics tried to secure the bodies of 
the slaughtered missioners and Sisters, but were 
prevented by heavy rains from carrying to the 
shore any other than Father Rascher ’s remains. 

Towards evening the laborers of a plantation, 
armed with rifles, spears and clubs, gathered 


[103] 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


at the seashore station and stood guard through¬ 
out the night. Before daybreak the moun¬ 
taineers rushed out of the forest, but withdrew 
as soon as bullets and spears told them that 
the tenants of the residence were ready to meet 
attack. After sunrise Father Rascher’s body 
was returned to earth at the entrance of the 
church. During the service the enemies re¬ 
peated their onset, equally without success. 

The dispatch to the government reached its 
destination early Sunday morning. Unfortun¬ 
ately the Governor had left for the Caroline 
Islands, his substitute was in New Guinea, and 
the judge had been called to the northern coast 
of New Britain. Thus the chief of police, the 
physician, a missionary, several settlers, and 
twenty native policemen took to a gasoline 
launch and landed off the coast of Baining at 
6 P. M. 

On Monday morning everybody, with the 
exception of some guards, marched to St. Paul. 
No living soul was to be seen. Instead their 
eyes beheld the most shocking spectacle. Eight 
corpses lay, untouched, in the position in which 


A TRAGIC MESSAGE 


they had fallen. One Brother clasped pencil 
and square; another held a trowel in his cold 
hand. Sister Superior rested near the altar¬ 
railing, surrounded by the battered tabernacle 
and scattered hosts. 

The missioner ordered a large grave dug and 
recited the last prayers in a trembling voice, 
while policemen stood guard with loaded rifles 
at their feet. 

A tour through the forest failed to reveal a 
single enemy. On Wednesday the officers and 
bluejackets of a surveying man-of-war raided 
and killed some of the murderers. To-Maria 
had intrenched himself near the foot of a 
mountain. The soldiers approached his strong¬ 
hold and he fired twice. Beloading his rifle 
behind a tree he was hit in the throat by a shell 
fired by the chief of police. His head was 
brought to the seashore and planted upon a 
spear as a warning to evil-doers. 

Seven months after the massacre Baining 
had another missioner who labored successfully 
and heroically, for heroism begets heroism. 

While the sterile virgin forest is gradually 


SOUTH SEA SKETCHES 


felled and replaced by useful plantations the 
souls of the cannibals are illumined with the 
rays of civilization, proving once again Chris¬ 
tianity’s power in leading barbarous tribes from 
savagery to the realm of culture. 


THE END 

















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